We Can Be Heroes (Just For One Day)
by three-days-late
Summary: Stories about victory, defeat, and everything in between from the FIFA World Cup in Brazil.
1. Groups 1

**The ****not really that**** much awaited ****if at all**** sequel to that thing I wrote back in 2010: Pretty Much the Same Thing But in 2014. But hey, it's World Cup time!**

**Just a heads up: these were all written before the last match listed, most on the day of the match in question, without foreknowledge of anything that's happened since. In case you were wondering.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Mexico 1-0 Cameroon**

"Yes!" Mexico shouted at the top of her lungs, "We did it! We won! Do you see me now?" she laughed, a tad on the maniacal side, and Cameroon started to creep out of the reach of her flailing limbs, "Do you see what we can accomplish _now_? We are the best there ever was!"

Cameroon kept the forced smile frozen on his face as he nodded, but she hardly seemed to notice.

Now might have been a bad time to mention she still had two more games to play.

* * *

**Spain 1-5 Netherlands**

Netherlands sighed and nudged Spain's prone form with his foot, "You still alive?"

"Barely," his voice was muffled by the grass he was face down in, "Is it over?"

"Yeah, it's over." It had been over for about three hours, but really who was counting? "You lost, by the way."

"I figured that out after your third goal," he groaned.

Netherlands rolled his eyes, he could be such a drama king, and sat down on his back as he pulled out his phone, "Do you want to hear what they're saying about you?"

"I do not want to hear what they are saying about me."

"'Worse loss by a defending champion,'" he quoted, "You hear that, Spain? They're saying you're the worst."

"I feel like the worst," he rolled over, causing Netherlands to fall off and sprawl over the grass, "Mi dios, did you have to be so harsh?"

"I didn't _want_ to," blatant lies, but who was counting, "You're an embarrassment to the rest of us, Mr. European Champion. Perhaps it's time for a new Champion."

"Oh no you don't," Spain sat up, grin on his face, "I won't lose again. After all, I've got a title to defend."

* * *

**Chile 3-1 Australia**

"You South Americans really don't mess around," Australia laughed, "First time out of the gate and you show no mercy."

"Of course," Chile said, "This is the World Cup, the greatest and grandest stage for football. You didn't think I'd go _easy_ on you, did you?"

"No way, but what about having fun with the game?"

"You misunderstand," Chile's grin grew, "Crushing you is fun."

* * *

**Colombia 3-0 Greece**

Being down 1-0 is fine, Greece decided. It's off putting, but fine. In fact, it might be _better_ to be down one then up one, because now the team is more focused and, at least in this theory, less likely to make mistakes.

2-0 is doable. Upsetting, sure, but it's still possible to win, as long as there's enough time left in the match, the team can rally together and make a dramatic comeback. At two down there's still hope.

All of that vanishes once the score hits 3-0.

Still, Greece mused, at least his goal differential is better than Spain's.

* * *

**England 1-2 Italy**

"This is it," England panted as he braced his hands on his knees and glared, "This time for sure, you're going down, Pasta Boys!"

"Ha!" Romano laughed as he leaned heavily against his bench and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"We'd like see you try," Italy was sprawled all over the bench.

Sweat was pouring out of every pore in England's body, but he couldn't give up, "Yeah, well-"

"Break," FIFA said as he came between the three of them.

"Break? What break?" England barked, "There's no breaks in football!"

"Water break," he shoved a bottle of water into England's hands and tossed two more over to Romano and Italy, "We're in the middle of the rainforest and it's over thirty-two degrees Celsius. You're taking a water break before you collapse on me."

England took giant gulps of water, shooting a glare at the brothers as he did so. This game wasn't over by a long shot.

Although not collapsing on the field would help.

* * *

**Côte d'Ivoire 2-1 Japan**

"Ah," Japan sighed as the referee blew the final whistle. So many opportunities to score, and they were _right there_, but none of them amounted to goals.

Japan congratulated Côte d'Ivoire on a good game, and wandered up to the stands to help his supports clean up.

It was mostly his fault, he supposed. He got too confident after that first goal. Next time he'd know better.

He smiled, small but there. Next time he'd win.

* * *

**Switzerland** **2-1 Ecuador**

1-1 was _not_ the score Switzerland came her for. He did not come here to _tie_ the others; he came here to beat them. He came here to _win_.

He glared at the field as if he could force his team to score again through sheer willpower, however as the clock crept into extra time and he could hear Ecuador's laughter even on the other bench, he slowly began to accept that this would be his fate.

Just then, hope beyond hope, the ball sailed into the goal right before time was up. He cheered, and turned to see Ecuador's face and stunned silence.

This tournament was looking better already.

* * *

**France 3-0 Honduras**

France smirked as the referee blew the final whistle, signaling the end of the game and his inevitable victory. He turned to gloat, but found that Honduras had already slunk back to the locker room, but it didn't bother him. England was probably already at the bar, he could gloat to him.

Not that he should get too caught up in this one victory. After all, there were still bigger fish in this tournament to fry.

* * *

**Germany 4-0 Portugal**

"I think we killed him," Prussia said as they stared down at Portugal's lifeless form.

"Indeed," Germany nodded, "he does appear to be dead."

Prussia nudged him with his foot. Portugal groaned and turned over, blinking as the late afternoon sun hit his eyes.

"He lives yet!" Prussia cackled.

Portugal let out another pained sound and squinted up at them, "Is it over?"

"Yes," they both nodded.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "How," he swallowed, anxious, but pushed through anyway, needing to know, "How bad was it?"

"Four-nil," Germany said, as Prussia started cracking up behind him yet again.

Portugal groaned and rolled over so he was face down in the grass again, "Just leave me here to die."

Prussia and Germany glanced at each other, sharing maniac grins.

They were just getting started.

* * *

**Ghana 1-2 USA**

America buried his face in his hands. The game had started out beautifully – a goal in the first thirty seconds _for him_, who'da thunk – but after the hamstring injuries started, it'd all been downhill.

"I can't watch," he muttered, "I'm gonna lose to Ghana _again_. My life is over."

"You're being melodramatic," Germany said, "Even if you lose here, you still have a chance."

"Really?" he perked up, "You really think I can beat you?"

"No. Definitely not. But there's still a slim, slim chance you can beat Portugal. I mean, not if you play like this, if you play like this you won't stand a chance, but-"

"My life is over," he wailed, burying his face in Germany's shoulder, "Why are you here anyway?"

"Moral support," America looked up, eyes full of thanks and gratitude, "Your new coach is a good friend of mine, after all."

America frowned, but any response was cut off by a commotion on the field. One of the new kids had just scored and the rest of the team was celebrating.

"Yes!" America jumped out of his seat and pointed frantically at the field, "Did you see that?"

"I did," Germany stared in shock, "Wasn't he one of mine?"

"Well, he's mine now!" America laughed and settled down as play resumed, giant grin covering half his face.

They called this the group of death? Ha! He wasn't done yet.

* * *

**Belgium 2-1 Algeria**

"Yes!" Belgium cheered as the referee blew the final whistle. It was a hard fought victory, but a victory none the less.

"Congrats, Sis," she turned to see Netherlands decked out in a red jersey with her flag painted on his cheek.

"You made it!" she threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, "It's nothing compared to yours, but still."

"We can't all crush Spain," he hugged her back, "But you did well. At this rate you might win the group. I won't face you until the quarterfinals."

"Well, that is the plan," she pulled back and beamed, "You better prepare yourself for then, brother, because I'm not going to go easy on you."

He put on a smirk of his own, "I'm counting on it."

* * *

**Russia 1-1 South Korea**

"A tie," Russia noted as the referee blew the whistle, "how quaint."

"Could be worse, I suppose," Korea said, "You're just lucky I let you off easy."

"Not losing is fine, but not winning is, troublesome, yes?"

Korea shrugged, "I guess, but it keeps the group interesting," he held out his hand, "Still, good game."

Russia shook it, "You as well."

Ties were well and good, but in the end, there could only be one winner, and Russia would make sure it was him.

* * *

So few notes concerning the America drabble since I doubt everyone knows the ins and outs of Team USA like it's their job and maybe I just like talking about Team USA:

- The head coach is Jurgen Klinsmann. He coached Germany back in 2006 when they got third, and he's still seen as something of a hero there, according to my sources.

- John Brooks was the sub who scored the winning goal in the Ghana game. Before joining Team USA, he played in Germany's second division, and he has dual German-American citizenship, so he is allowed to have played for both.


	2. Groups 2

**And here we go, the next round of drabbles from the second round of play. One more round of group play after this and then it's on to the knock out stage. Super exciting.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Australia 2-3 Netherlands**

"What a match, eh?" Australia's smile exploded across his face as he shook Netherlands' hand, "Almost had you there for a bit.

Netherlands grunted in response, reasonably confident that he had the game pretty much in control, although maybe it was touch and go there for a moment or two.

"I thought you'd have been a lot tougher though," he laughed, "Considering how hard you thrashed Spain, I mean."

"Who knows? Maybe I was just going easy on you."

Australia laughed like that, "In the World Cup? Not on your life. No one in the history of the sport has gone easy on their opponent, and I doubt you're the one to start, mate."

Netherlands was inclined to agree.

* * *

**Spain 0-2 Chile**

Spain blinked his eyes open as the sun streamed down on him. He sat up and looked around the empty football stadium. That's right; he had his match against Chile today. Good thinking on his part taking a nap in the stadium so he wouldn't be late.

"You finally awake?" Spain looked up to see Romano sitting on the nearby bench, frowning at him. Odd that he'd chosen to sleep on the ground as opposed to the bench, but then again he'd had more awkward napping spots.

"Oh, Romano," Spain sighed, "I had the strangest, most horrible dream. I dreamt that I had actually _lost_ to Chile, and despite being the defending Champion and the best team in the world I was the first team eliminated," he laughed, "What a crazy dream."

"Yeah, that wasn't a dream," Romano leaned back and stared up at the passing clouds, "Your game ended a few hours ago. You lost."

Spain froze, the memories flooding back to him, "Are you positive I didn't dream that?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure this conversation isn't a dream?"

Romano punched him right on the head, and it hurt quite a lot. "Oh."

"Yeah," Romano stood up hand held out a hand to Spain, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Spain turned away from him, "Yeah, I'm alright."

"You're crying, you know."

Spain lifted a hand to his cheek, and sure enough it came away wet, "Huh. Would you look at that?"

Romano sat down on the grass next to him, "We can stay here for a bit, and then find you something to drown your tears in, my treat for once, Boss."

Spain rested his head against Romano's shoulder, silently letting his tears fall, "Thank you, Romano."

* * *

**Cameroon 0-4 Croatia**

Cameroon had hidden his face behind his hands sometime around the third goal and still hadn't come out when the final whistle blew. "Is it over?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's over," Ghana said, "You lost, but I think you knew that."

"I kind of figured somewhere between the red card and the third goal," he sighed, "What's the damage?"

"Four nil."

He groaned.

"Hey, it could be worse."

"How could this possibly be worse? I have no points, a goal differential of -5, my best player was red carded, and I still have to play Brazil."

"You could have lost to America."

That got a chuckle out of him, "At least I'm not _that_ pathetic."

"Hey," she playfully punched his shoulder, "No need for insults, I'm trying to cheer you up."

"A drink might help with that."

"I can do that, but you've got to promise me one thing."

"And what's that?"

She smirked, "Give Brazil hell."

That got a full on grin, "That, at least, I can do."

* * *

**Uruguay 2-1 England**

"I can't believe it," England muttered, "Completely humiliated. I _invented_ the sport and-"

"You always do this, every time you lose." America stood straighter and put on his worst British accent, "'Ello 'ello, my names England and since I invented soccer I am the only one who knows how to play it despite the fact I haven't won the World Cup since 1966 and I'm convinced the sport hasn't changed since then. Tea and crumpets, bangers and mash, God Save the Queen and Doctor Who, wotcher.'"

"Oh, and like you're much better?" England slouched and mustered up the worst American accent he could, "'Yo, dude, I'm America. I don't know why I'm here since I _hate football so much_ that I made my own football even though it's just rugby with padding. I also can't think up an original television show premise to save my life so I just steal them all from England. Fuck all y'all.'"

"Haha you're so hilarious I just love spending time with you," America rolled his eyes, "But you're acting like getting eliminated from groups is the end of the world, and you're not even eliminated yet!"

England's face went white, "Do you actually think I could be eliminated?"

"Anything's possible, it's the World Cup, you know."

That was exactly the wrong thing to say, as England slid further into his seat, "I haven't failed to leave groups in eons. Do you know what that's like?"

"To get knocked out in groups? Yes, I know that feeling well," America held out his hand, "You're up against Costa Rica next. She's from my conference so I know her well, and trust me you're not going to be able to win if you keep moping around like this, and then you'll be eliminated for sure." He raised an eyebrow, "What happened to that 'Keep Calm and Carry On' attitude of yours."

England blinked, "You're right," and took his hand, allowing himself to be pulled up, "I can't give up now. France'll never let me hear the end of it."

"That's the spirit."

* * *

**Japan 0-0 Greece**

A tie. A tie was good; it meant he wasn't out yet. He could work with a tie. Sure, a win would be better, if only he could have just gotten even one ball into the goal… but he didn't.

"Japan!" Greece called over to him, knocking him out of his thoughts, "Good game."

"Ah, yes," Japan bowed slightly, "Same to you, Greece-san. Well played."

"I guess we're both still in this," Greece smiled, "Although only one of us can make it out of groups now."

"Or Côte d'Ivoire."

"I guess," Greece sighed, "It'll be an uphill battle for either of us."

"Yes," Japan looked away, "that's true."

"Still," he held out his hand, "I'll be rooting for you. Good luck against Colombia. I know you'll give him hell."

Japan smiled as he shook Greece's hand, "Yes, and I wish you luck against Côte d'Ivoire. I'll be cheering you on."

A tie was fine; a tie meant a chance.

* * *

**Italy 0-1 Costa Rica**

"What-" said Romano.

"The-" said Italy

"Gooooooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllll!" shouted the announcer over the stadium's PA system.

Sure enough, the ball was in the goal. The strange part was that it was Costa Rica's ball in Italy's goal.

"How?" Romano asked.

"I don't know." Italy answered.

"She's going to win the group." Romano said.

They both looked at each other.

While their group wasn't the so-called 'Group of Death,' their group wasn't exactly a cakewalk, but between three previous World Cup champions and Costa Rica, who couldn't even win her conference…

"No." Italy decided.

"Just a fluke." Romano agreed.

Who would have guessed _Costa Rica_ would win the group?

* * *

**Switzerland 2-5 France**

France chuckled as he stared down Switzerland, "Did you actually think you stood a chance?"

Switzerland glared back at him but remained silent.

"I mean really," he sighed and flipped his hair over his shoulder, "I knew I was going to win but 5-0? What, are you on the same level as Spain?"

Switzerland's rage and disdain reached new levels as France laughed once more and his attention turned back to the game.

Just in time to watch Switzerland's boys sink two beautiful goals.

France stared at the pitch in complete disbelief, and it was Switzerland's turn to chuckle.

"I'm not out of this thing yet."

* * *

**Germany 2-2 Ghana**

"How long has he been like this?"

"Since Ghana took the lead."

"And he hasn't moved?"

"Not a centimeter."

Prussia could hear three concerned voices floating nearby, but he was having trouble acknowledging them.

Because they couldn't take the lead. From _Ghana._

"Portugal I'd understand," he said out loud, "_Portugal_ should have been a force to be reckoned with. But _Ghana_?"

"Oh look," France said from his left, "He lives."

"Hey Prussia," Spain said on his right, "How are you feeling?"

"We shouldn't have underestimated her," Germany was standing in front of him, arms crossed and glancing away, "We let our guard down."

"But she lost to _America_!"

"We shouldn't underestimate him either. We're playing him next, after all."

"It's a strange World Cup where anything can happen," France said, leaning back and stretching out his legs, "Especially now that your so-called 'Group of Death' is now wide open."

"Did we," Prussia swallowed, not daring to think it but having to ask, "Did we, lose?"

"Tie," Germany answered, "2-2."

"Oh thank god. We haven't reached Spain levels of pathetic."

"Hey!" Spain smacked his shoulder, "I'm sitting right here!"

"Who gets ranked the best team in the world and then loses right out the gate I mean, Spain," Prussia placed a hand on his shoulder, "You're my friend and I love you, but c'mon. That's pathetic."

"We considered Portugal our only threat in the group," Germany had his serious voice on, and Prussia was paying attention, "And we let our guard down. We now know that's not the case. We can't let that happen again."

"It won't," Prussia said. And he'd make sure it didn't; they both would.

* * *

**Belgium 1-0 Russia**

Belgium may have actually jumped for joy when the final whistle blew, but could you blame her? She'd just won her second game, all but securing her spot in the next round, and was well on her way to winning the whole group. Sure her goal differential wasn't nearly at her brother's level, but she was still winning the group.

"Good job," she turned to find Russia standing there, "Your team played well."

"Thanks," she said and held out a hand, "Yours did too."

"Ah, not as well as I should like," he shook her hand, "I'm thinking it is the heat, we are not so used to it. This will not be a problem at my house next time."

That sounded more like an excuse, but she was in a good mood; she let it slide, "Good luck with your next game! Algeria, isn't it?"

"Yes," he replied, and suddenly the temperature dropped a few degrees, "I certainly wouldn't want to be him anytime soon."

As soon as Russia was gone, she let out a shudder, somehow even more glad that she had already qualified then she was a moment ago.

* * *

**South Korea 2-4 Algeria**

South Korea hung his head as the final whistle blew. He'd tried so hard, wanted it even harder, but _wanting _a win was never enough, and he knew that. After all Algeria wanted a win too, probably.

Still, he was a good sport, and he smiled as he congratulated Algeria on winning and wished him luck against Russia before slogging back to the locker room with the rest of his team.

His goal differential was the worst in the group, he realized later. Not only would he have to beat Belgium to advance, he'd have to do it by a significant amount.

"That shouldn't be a problem for you, should it?"

He realized he must have said that out loud as Japan sat down next to him, "After all, aren't you the one who claims to be better than me, even though I'm still the reigning Asian Champion?"

He gave him a small smile, "You just catch me on my off days. And some champion you turn out to be anyway," he sighed, "We're not doing so well here, are we?"

"No, not as well as we'd like, but we're not out yet."

"Quite a climb for both of us just to get out of groups at this point."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we should give up. After all, anything is possible if we try, and if we give up then we've already lost."

That got him a full-fledged smile, "Let's shake things up, Aniki."

* * *

**USA 2-2 Portugal**

"Yes!" America shouted, already celebrating as the clock wound down, "We did it!"

Somehow, after that disastrous first five minutes, he managed to pull out ahead of Portugal. A standard All-American Take That! to everyone who doubted he could.

He was going to win this game. He was going to qualify for the next round _regardless_ of what happened in the next game against Germany. He was going to be _winning the group_-

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLL!" shouts the announcer over the stadium's PA system, "Portugal scores! In the last attack of the game, no less!"

"What." America stared at the scoreboard in disbelieve, the 2-2 shining just as clear as the clock reaching 95 minutes and the end of the game. "How?"

But, he had been there, right there, victory just in his reach, and to have it snatched away so quickly…

"You're not out of here just yet," Portugal was saying, "This group is still wide open."

How right he was. With the four of them in clawing distance of the next round the next games were going to be brutal.

Still, if it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight he was more than happy to bring.


	3. Groups 3

**And so we have come to the end of groups. Now with less teams in the tournament, I should have less drabbles to write, and in theory I should be able to update these while their still relevant, but when have I ever updated something on time?**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Netherlands 2-0 Chile**

Only two goals, Netherlands frowned as the game came to a close. He was slowing down. Not slowing down, he reminded himself, resting. He was already through after all; no need to go all out just yet.

"Hey," he found Chile after the match and held out a hand, "Good game."

Chile grinned and shook it, "You too."

"Good luck in the next round. You've got Brazil, right?"

"Don't remind me," Chile grimaced.

"I think you can take him," Chile gave him a disbelieving look; "I'm serious. You've got a real shot at this thing."

"Well, good luck to you too," Chile grinned, "And I'll just see you in the finals."

"I'll look forward to it."

* * *

**Australia 0-3 Spain**

"Well, well," Australia snickered at Spain's pout, "Look who finally learned how to play soccer. Bit late though."

"Football," he corrected automatically, "And I don't see why you are so smug. You've lost every game!"

"Yeah, that's disappointing, but at least I had fun."

"Fun? But you lost!"

Australia laughed, "I can have fun even if I lose. When all's said and done, soccer's still just game."

Spain frowned, "It's more fun when I win."

"Isn't everything?" Australia held out a hand, "Good game. I had fun. You get to go home with a win, so you had fun too, I guess. Wins all around, since this game didn't matter much anyway. See you in 2018, yeah?"

Spain took his hand and smiled, "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

**Cameroon 1-4 Brazil**

Cameroon's run in this World Cup had been, less than stellar. It was always hard disappointing your people, coming home with no wins and few goals, and it wasn't something _any_ nation wanted to do _ever_. But, even so, things could have been worse.

"Do you know?" England said from his right, "Do you know when the last time I failed to leave groups was?" Cameroon did, because England had been on this rant several times in the last few hours, but chose to remain silent, "The sixties! This is unheard of! And _Costa Rica_ goes through? Ridiculous!"

"You don't understand!" Spain bemoaned on his left, "I was number one! I was the greatest football team the world had ever seen! And I was out! Out! After two games, out of the tournament! How can I possible go home and face my citizens in such disgrace?"

At the very least, Cameroon thought, he wasn't these losers.

* * *

**Costa Rica 0-0 England**

"I just don't understand," England muttered under his breath.

"What's there to understand?" America said, "Costa Rica beat Uruguay. Costa Rica beat Italy. Costa Rica tied you. Costa Rica has seven points and won your group."

"How? How could I _tie_ a CONCACAF? A CONCACAF who wasn't even trying?"

"Uh, you tied me in 2010, and lost to me in 1950."

"Am I just that horrible?" England ignored him, "I mean, I know I didn't stand a chance in the actual tournament, but to not even leave groups, to not even beat Costa Rica…"

"Maybe Costa Rica is just that good, did you ever consider that?"

England stared at him, "_You _beat her."

"Are you saying I suck?" England gave him a look, "I mean, I _did_ beat Costa Rica in the qualifiers. By the transitive property, that means my team is better than yours."

England groaned and banged his head against the nearest flat surface, "Don't."

"Same with Italy and Uruguay. Actually, come to think of it, I beat Mexico in qualifiers too," he mulled it over, "That means I'm better than Brazil." He laughed, "They should just hand me the World Cup. Tournament over, I've pretty much already won this, after all."

"The day you win the World Cup is the day hell freezes over, pigs fly, and the rest of us call it soccer."

"You're just jealous. I'll make a great World Champion."

England buried his head as deep as he could. Being out before groups, that he could handle, eventually. America winning on top of that, however, would be unbearable.

* * *

**Italy 0-1 Uruguay**

"What the fuck?" Romano gripped his shoulder, "What the actual fuck?" Uruguay was looking at him like his guy hadn't just bitten someone's shoulder in the middle of a match, "FIFA!" Romano called over to the man standing on the sidelines, "Are you going to stand for that shit?"

"What shit?" FIFA said, "I didn't see anything-"

"That is bullshit and you know it!" Romano thrust his finger at Uruguay, "He _bit me_! There are teeth marks! That's a red card at the very least, and you know it!"

FIFA shook his head, "I didn't see anything wrong."

"Yeah? Well why don't I just bite _your_-"

"Romano, no!" Feliciano held him back, "You can't punch FIFA, no matter how obviously corrupt and disgusting he is," FIFA twitched at that, "We have to play on."

"Feliciano, this is fucking ridiculous. He gave Mario a red card _for fucking nothing_ and is letting _this_ slide because he wants his stars on the field? How is this a fair game?"

"It's not," Italy glared, "FIFA has revealed himself to be dishonest and cowardly, but there isn't anything you can do about it. That's the game, isn't it? It's your game and we're just players."

FIFA was full on glowering at the brothers, "I didn't see anything," he repeated, "However, if you feel there was a violation of rules and regulations, I will look into it and take appropriate actions after the match."

"I bet you will, bastard," Romano growled, "If we lose because of this-"

And then Uruguay's team scored.

Romano lunged. Italy made no move to stop him.

* * *

**Japan 1-4 Colombia**

There was a chance. If Greece managed to beat Côte d'Ivoire, and Japan beat Colombia, he could go on. And according to the person watch the score of the other game, Greece was, at least for the first half, keeping up his end of this chance.

The problem, he'd have to admit, was him.

Maybe Colombia was that good; maybe there never really was a chance.

Three games, three losses, and now Japan was heading home too soon.

Next time, Japan resolved, next time he'd win for sure.

* * *

**Greece 2-1 Côte d'Ivoire**

The final seconds were creeping up, and the score was still tied. A tie was alright before, but here, right now, a tie would ruin Greece. The scored wouldn't change just because he willed it too, he knew that. What he needed was a miracle.

And in the final seconds of extra time, he got it in the form of a foul in the penalty box and the resulting penalty kick, he got his miracle.

He had managed the impossible; he was moving on to the Round of Sixteen.

* * *

**Honduras 0-3 Switzerland **

3-0, yes, that was enough to make up Switzerland's goal differential. Now even if Ecuador did manage to score, he would still go on.

This was just the beginning though. He had Argentina next, and that was not going to be an easy match by any stretch of the imagination. Getting out of groups was nice, but from here on out the real struggle began.

And Switzerland was more than ready.

* * *

**Ecuador 0-0 France**

Tie game, not the best way to end his magnificent run in the groups, but it didn't matter to France at this point. He was moving on regardless of the outcome, and while a win would have been nice, it wasn't a necessity. Resting, gathering his full strength so he could take out his next opponent, that was key. Not everyone had that opportunity.

Ecuador had just found out the score of the other game and was cursing out everyone within a ten foot radius. Perhaps he would congratulate him later then. Right now, France felt like celebrating and gloating.

He wondered if England and Spain had left yet.

* * *

**Germany 1-0 USA**

America stood by the bench, twitching. A loss was alright. He knew it was probably going to happen and it was only by one, not too bad, but now his future in this tournament depended on Portugal and Ghana, and he hated not having control over the situation.

On the other side of the field, Germany and Prussia were already celebrating their win and subsequent advancement. Must have been nice, having your advancement secure and _not_ dependent on someone else's game, but America had had his chance at that. Now was not the time to be bitter.

Now was the time to find someone who knew the score of the other game.

"Hey!" Prussia shouted at him. America turned to face him, "Congrats, kid!"

"On what?" America scratched his head, "I lost the game."

"Well, yeah, but that's nothing to feel bad about. Few teams here can stand up to our awesome might, and you held us to one," Prussia grinned, "I meant congrats on advancing."

"Huh?" America was even more confused, "But the other game-"

"Is already over," Germany came over and said, "Spain has been keeping us updated on his brother's score, and Portugal managed to pull out a 2-1 win," he held out his hand, "So congratulations on your advancement, number two. You earned it."

"I told you," Prussia snickered, "Just trust your coach. He's a good man and he knows what he's doing. Trust us, we know from experience."

America stared at Germany's hand for all of two seconds before ignoring it and wrapping his arms around him in a hug instead. Germany faltered for a moment, but eventually awkwardly returned the hug.

America had done it. He'd escaped the Group of Death. He was on to the next round.

* * *

**Belgium 1-0 South Korea**

Belgium cheered just as loud as her fans as the final whistle blew, securing her spot as the Champion of Group H, on her way to the knockout round.

"Hey," South Korea approached her and held out a hand, "Good game, and congratulations on winning the group."

She shook it, perhaps too enthusiastically, but she was in an enthusiastic state of mind, "You too. Um, sorry you had to be eliminated…"

He smiled, "It's alright. My big brother says losing is a part of the game too. After all, there can only be one winner," and sighed, "It's going to suck heading back home, though."

"Stay for a while then," he stared at her, but she continued, "Stay. Watch the rest of the games, cheer me on. I know Japan and the rest of your conference are out, but you still have friends in right? You should at least stick around for them."

South Korea laughed at that, "Well, it is about time for my summer vacation, and what better way to spend it than in Brazil?"

She certainly couldn't think of a better way.

* * *

**Russia 1-1 Algeria**

For one fleeting moment, he'd had it right there, his way out of the group. But just like a snowflake in his over-heated palm, it vanished all too quickly.

He trudged back to the locker room, away from Algeria's celebration, and resigned himself to his life a failure. He'd have to go home now, so soon…

"Brother," he turned to find his sisters. Belarus leaned in for a hug as Ukraine said, "You played well, Brother."

"Very well. You should have one," Belarus said as her grip tightened, "I shall make Algeria _pay_ for this, mark my words."

"N-not necessary," Russia quickly scooped her into his arms to prevent her from running off, "It's just a game after all. Besides, it's at my house next time. We can pay Algeria back then."

Belarus pouted, "If you say so."

"Come on," Ukraine smiled and held out a hand for him, "Brazil said we can until the end of the Cup, and everyone has the day off tomorrow. Let's take vacation, go to the beach. It's very warm here."

That was very true, one of the few perks of coming to the complete opposite side of the world, and he did like the warmth. He smiled and too his sisters' hands, allowing them to lead him out into the sunshine.

He may be out too soon now, but in 2018, it was his turn.


	4. The Origins of Soccer

**You watch a lot of international soccer and the first thing you notice is that everyone else calls soccer football. But did you ever wonder where did the word soccer come from exactly? I did too.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**1860s**

"Here," England tossed him a round ball with black and white splotches all over it.

"Great," America caught it and started bobbling it back and forth between his hands, "What is it?"

"It's a football. You play football with it."

"I see," he held it up to examine it better. America was used to footballs being brown and leather and a foot long, like the name implied, "I don't see how you can play football with this? I mean, it seems a bit hard to pass."

England snatched the ball back, "It's for _actual_ football, not that bastardization of rugby you call football," he dropped it on the ground, "You kick it, see, like this."

"Oh, neat," America loved learning new sports, but, "But it's going to get confusing, I mean, what I call football is getting more popular every year, and if I call this new sport football, people will get confused."

England kicked the ball back to his hands, "Well, the full name is association football-"

"Yeah, that's a mouthful. Can you imagine, 'Want to go down to the association football field to watch a rousing game of association football?' I'm bored just saying it."

England threw the ball at him, America caught in by instinct, "As I was _saying_, since the full name is association football, a lot of Oxford boys have taken to calling it soccer."

That could work, but still, "How on earth do you get soccer out of association football?"

"You abbreviate 'association' to 'soc' and add 'er' on the end." America glared at him, "It's Oxford slang; you wouldn't understand."

"The day your slang makes sense to me is the day I willingly become your colony again," he tossed the soccer ball back to England, "So how do you play soccer?"

* * *

**1960s**

"I just," England sobbed into the phone, "I hate you so much!"

America sighed on the other end, "Yeah, you've said. Have you been drinking?"

"No!" he had, "I just called to tell you-"

"That you hate me, that everything I do is wrong, that you regret ever meeting me because everything I do is wrong and you hate me," his sigh crackled through the lines, "We've been over this about a hundred times, England. I know the spiel by now. If there's nothing new I'm hanging up."

"There's something new! There's something new I hate about you!"

"This better be good, I've got things to do and Commies to intimidate."

England thought long and hard, "You call football soccer."

"What?"

"You call football soccer," he said, louder this time, "That's so American. Why can't you call it football like the rest of us? Do you think you're better than us, calling it 'soccer' just to make yourself different?"

"I-"

"Who does that? Who goes around changing the names of other people's sports just so they can rub it in their face how 'independent' and better than the rest of us they are? It's annoying and rude."

"Okay, I'm not doing this with you right now," England could hear the tension and resignation in his voice, "If you really want to continue this discussion, then call me back when you're sober."

The line went dead. England grumbled as he put it back, muttering nonsense about 'soccer' and 'ungrateful brats.'

* * *

**2010s**

"Football already has a perfectly good name," England said as he watched America warm up on the pitch, "I just don't understand why you would change it."

"Why do you even care?" America said, "You understand what I mean when I say 'soccer.' Does it even matter?"

"But we're confused when what you call football isn't actually football."

"Yeah," America kicked the ball over to him, "Same."

"I _invented _the sport," America rolled his eyes, England ignored it, "And when I did, I decided it would be called football. Why would you even call it soccer?"

"I dunno, mate," Australia said as he dribbled a ball passed them, "Have you ever looked it up in a dictionary?"

* * *

**Other nations that call it soccer because whoa omg we're not the only ones include Canada (even the French part), Australia, New Zealand for the most part, Japan, South Africa, and Singapore. Philippines, Liberia, Pakistan, Nigeria, and others use soccer and football interchangeably. **

**Also Puerto Rico uses soccer, which isn't surprising when you consider that it's a US territory, but is surprising when you consider that they speak Spanish.**


	5. Round of 16

**Sorry about that, my computer broke last week. orz I should have the next few drabbles up in a timely manner.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**Netherlands 2-1 Mexico**

Netherlands leaned back on the bench as the final whistle blew. It had been touch and go there for a moment, his toughest fight of the tournament to be sure, but he was through to the next round. Gotta love penalty kicks.

"Ned!" he looked up to see Belgium and Luxembourg run over to him. Belgium wasted no time in throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. Luxembourg grinned at him from over her shoulder.

"Congratulations," Luxembourg said, "It was a good game, I'm glad I came."

"Why are you here?" he asked as he returned Belgium's hug, "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but don't you have work?"

"I can work any time," he waved it off, "How often do I get a chance to come to one of these things?"

"Yeah," Belgium let go and sat down next to Netherlands, "Especially since your team can't qualify." Luxembourg lightly slapped her shoulder as she and Netherlands started laughing.

Winning on its own was fantastic but this, right here, was simply better.

* * *

**Costa Rica 1-1 Greece; Penalty Shoot-Out: 5:3 Costa Rica**

This was it. All of Greece's football dreams lived or died on this goal. Either he was through or he was out, and it all depended on Costa Rica's shooter's foot and his goalie's hands.

Greece clenched his hands on knees and stared at the ball. The shooter ran forward and time seemed to slow down around him. Greece could see every minute movement, every blade of grass that bent as his foot hit the ball, every displacement of air as the ball sailed through it, and the shock and disappointment on the goalie's face when he realized the ball had sailed past his reached.

Greece closed his eyes. He didn't need to see the ball hit the back of the net to know he already lost.

The cheers from Costa Rica's fans were deafening, as he slumped back into the locker room.

He'd take tonight to feel sorry for himself, he decided. If Japan was still around, maybe they could do something. Just on night to dwell on this. He'd see how the rest of the games for the round turned out, see who was through, and cheer one of them through to the finals.

After that, all focus would be on 2018. He wouldn't lose here again.

* * *

**France 2-0 Nigeria**

It was a tough fight, to be sure, but his team had done it. France was through. He was worried there for a moment, so many shots on goal and none of them were going in, but in the end they had broken down Nigeria's defense. Still, it was a good game, and they had avoided playing for 120 minutes, which would be a nice plus, especially if they'll have to face…

France glanced up over the top of the stadium towards where he knows Prussia and his team will be playing in a few hours. He wonders if Prussia would blame him if he roots for Algeria.

* * *

**Germany 2-1 Algeria**

Throughout the second scoreless half, Prussia was quiet. Germany didn't blame him, he was nervous himself, going so long without a goal, but he was used to Prussia cheering the loudest with their fans that it was enough to unnerve him.

When the extra time started, Prussia spoke for the first time in 45 minutes, "We can't lose here."

"We won't," Germany said, "We've got 30 more minutes to get a goal in. We'll win."

"We haven't scored in the first 90 minutes."

"What brought this on?" Germany asked, "You know our team better than anyone. You know they won't lose, even if it does end up in penalty kicks. Believe in them, believe in us."

Prussia nodded, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

As if to reward his faith, the ball sailed into the goal, and the Germans got the first point of the match.

It was all uphill after that.

* * *

**Argentina 1-0 Switzerland**

All too soon it was over for Switzerland. He tried to think of the positives as he congratulated Argentina on her win. He had gotten farther than he had last year. He'd lost to a South American team in South America, and no one could blame him for that. There was always next time…

Four years from now. Switzerland sighed as he leaned his head against the locker. Four years was a long time to wait for another chance.

But, he reasoned, thinking positive, it was also plenty of time to prepare.

* * *

**Belgium 2-1 USA**

Belgium jumped for joy as the final whistle blew. It had been long and hard fought, but she'd finally put a ball in that goal, two even, and won the match! She was moving on!

"Congratulations," Netherlands said when he found her in the middle of the field with her team, "You did a good job."

"Thanks," she said as she hugged him, but quickly pulled away and searched the field, "Have you seen America?"

Netherlands pointed to his bench, and there he was, slumped down and face hidden in his defeat.

"Don't rub it in," Netherlands reminded her, "Losing is tough, and no one likes a sore winner."

She nodded and walked over to the other bench.

"Hey," she said softly, placing a hand on America's shoulder.

He looked up, held up one finger and mouthed 'one sec,' and turned his attention back to the phone in his hand, "Yeah, I'm not saying you should appoint him right now, I'm just saying think about it."

Belgium blinked. He was working? Now? This was a close to a vacation as they ever got, and he was jumping right back into work now that he was out?

"I think sixteen saves in a single World Cup game is enough of a credential. Besides, it's all about defending my interests abroad, yeah? That's exactly what Tim Howard's been doing for the past two World Cups, and the Gold Cups, and pretty much every match Team USA plays. I don't see why not having a 'political career' means he can't be Secretary of Defense. Sixteen saves! Did you even watch the game?" he pouted.

Belgium hid her laugh behind her hand. What a giant nerd, trying to get his goalie made Secretary of Defense. Although she had to admit, that was a performance worthy of legend.

"Alright fine, but at least consider renaming an airport or something? He deserves something, is all I'm saying," America continued, and blushed as his boss said something, "No! It's not a crush! Shut up! Just think about it, please? Alright, thanks, I gotta go, Belgium's here. I'll see you in a few weeks. Yeah, I'll probably just spend my birthday down here; everyone else is already here anyway. Okay, bye." He hung up the phone and gave her a sheepish grin, "Sorry about that. Important business, you know how it is."

"I'll bet," she smiled right back at him.

"Anyway," he held out his hand, "Congrats on your win. You earned it, and I had a lot of fun playing with you all. Good luck in the next round."

She shook his hand, "Thanks, you played well. I hope this doesn't mean I'm not invited to your birthday party?"

He laughed, "As long as you promise to give Argentina hell, yeah you can still come."

She grinned. That was certainly a promise she planned on keeping.


	6. Round of 8

**Here we go, the much anticipated Round of 8. Just two more drabbles and I'll actually be caught up for the finals. \o/**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

**France 0-1 Germany**

The final whistle blew, and Germany and Prussia cheered just as loud as their fans. One game down, two more to go.

France made his way through the teeming crowd of celebrating fans to find them. "Congratulations," he said once he got their attention, "You've earned it."

"Thanks," Prussia couldn't stop smiling, "Always have a good time beating you." He took off his jersey and handed it to France.

France laughed and removed his own jersey, swapping it with Prussia's, "I've redeemed my horrible performance in South Africa, at the very least. Although in 2018, I _will_ regain my crown, so watch out."

Prussia rolled his eyes as he pulled France's jersey over his head, "You've been saying that since 2002 and yet you still only have the one win. Besides, we're not going to be easy defending champions to beat."

That got a chuckle out of France, "You know, that's exactly what Spain said."

"Hey!"

"And Italy and Romano before him…"

"It's a good thing that we're better than them," he playfully punch France's arm, "You're going to be rooting for us now that you're out, right?"

France pondered it for a long moment, "Get to the final and maybe I'll consider it."

Prussia's smirk was almost predatory, "No problem."

* * *

**Argentina 1-0 Belgium**

And just like that, it was all over. A mere 90 minutes before she had been filled with hope and determination to win not only this game but the whole thing, but now that too has come to an end.

She slumped in her seat in the locker room. Losing was the worst.

Someone sat down in the space next to her and was silent for a few long moments before saying, "Are you okay?"

She rested her head on Luxembourg's shoulder, "I'll be okay, I guess. Losing sucks."

"Yeah it does," he reached out and put an arm around her shoulders, tugging her in close, "I would know. Never even made it to the World Cup, so even if you're not as good as Argentina, rest easier knowing you're better than me."

"You really know how to cheer a girl up," she rolled her eyes and hugged her brother tight, "Just stop talking for a few minutes."

He complied, and waiting five minutes before saying, "You know, if we hurry, we still might be able to make Ned's game."

"His game is on the other side of the country," she sighed, "We'll never make it."

"I've got a car waiting outside with Romano behind the wheel," he pulled away, stood up, and offered her a hand, "Like I said, if we hurry."

She smiled and took his hand. In the end, she still has her family.

* * *

**Netherlands 0-0 Costa Rica; Penalty Shoot Out: 4:3 Netherlands**

Netherlands grit his teeth as the penalty kicks began. Throw him the defending World Cup champion and current European Champion, no problem, five goals in easily, a walk in the park. Against Costa Rica, who has never even made it this far before, whose last victory in the CONCACAF Championship was in the 1980s, who lost to _America_, and he can't even score one goal in 120 minutes. How even?

"It snowed," America said as he plopped down in the seat next to him, "When I beat Costa Rica in qualifiers, as she is constantly reminding everyone who brings up the point 'how are you so good if America beat you?'" he shrugged, "If you're wondering how I beat her when you can't even score on her; it snowed, and she freaked out. She's pretty much at home in the Brazilian rainforest though," he laughed, "Can't say the same for you Europeans."

Netherlands hummed in agreement, not taking his eyes off the field, "Is that why you're cheering for her now? Because of the snow?"

"Yeah, she's still really pissed about that," he laughed, "Also the wardrobe I brought with me happens to be full of red, white, and blue and has a distinct lack of orange."

He grunted in acknowledgement as the penalty kicks got underway. Even America managed to remain deathly silent as goal after goal was kicked. In the end, his goalie managed to save two goals, earning his victory and place in the semi-finals.

"Ah, that's disappointing," America sighed next to him, "She came so close, only to lose it on penalties. On the plus side, she's going to hate you way more than she hates me now, so thanks for that."

"Happy to help," Netherlands stood. He should find Costa Rica and tell her this, but he could tell him this first, "She did well. You all did."

"Huh?" America blinked.

"Well, you, her, and Mexico did. I didn't really see Honduras play, but the three of you did well," he rubbed the back of his head, "I struggled more against Mexico and Costa Rica than I did Spain, and you certainly gave Belgium a run for her money." He shrugged, "Who knows? Someday soon a CONCACAF team might just win the whole thing."

America smiled, "You think I could?"

"Not you," Netherlands smirked, "Costa Rica probably, Mexico definitely."

"I would rather burn in hell than watch Mexico win a World Cup before me."

"Then work harder," he said, "You're almost there. Maybe if you started calling it football like the rest of us-"

"I'm not the only-" America crossed his arms in front of his chest and pouted, "whatever. I hope Argentina kicks your ass."

Netherlands gave him one last grin before heading out of the stands to find Costa Rica.

The quarterfinals may be over, but the semis were just getting started.


	7. Round of 4

**There were two Hetalia characters in the semifinals, and as luck would have it one ended up in the finals and one ended up in the third place game, so I can do two drabbles for the finals. Huzzah!**

**Enjoy, and good luck to the finalists!**

* * *

**Brazil 1-7 Germany**

"We did it!" Prussia cheered as he jumped in the air. Germany laughed, the excitement and jubilation from everyone around him getting to him too. They had done it; they were on their way to the finals.

One more game, one more opponent, and they would be world champions.

"Prussia!" Spain shouted as he ran over to them, "Prussia! I, I just…" words failed him as he threw his arms around his friend and squeezed tight, "Th-thank you. Prussia, thank you so much! You are, you are truly the best friend anyone could ever have! I am in your debt."

"Well, uh," Prussia awkwardly returned the hug, "You're welcome, I guess? What did I do?"

Spain released him, but held on to his shoulders to keep him an arm's length away, "You, this victory is the worst defeat in the tournament. It has all but completely erased my subpar performance against Netherlands. I am no longer the embarrassment of the football world, and it's all thanks to you!" he looked over Prussia's shoulder, "Oh, and you too Germany, of course."

"Don't mention it," Germany said, "It was our pleasure."

"Yeah," Prussia laughed, "If you ever need us to crush an opponent and break several records while doing it, all you have to do is ask."

One more game, they both were thinking, one more victory.

* * *

**Argentina 0-0 Netherlands; Penalty Shoot-Out: 4:2 Argentina**

"I've been thinking," Netherlands said to Argentina, "You should really go to the finals. You earned it."

"Oh no," said Argentina to Netherlands, "You're path was much more difficult than mine. Really, you go to the finals."

"A European nation has never won in South America. It would be a shame to end such an outstanding streak. Really, go to the final. I don't mind."

"Ah, but my eternal football rival may-he-forever-burn-in-the-fiery-depths-of-football-hell is in the third place match, and I am honor bound to face him there. Your football rival, however, is in the finals. You should be the one to face them. I'd hate to take that away from you"

"True, but wouldn't it make Brazil look even worse if you won the Cup at his house yet again?"

She thought about it, that would be pretty sweet, and her goalie managed to save yet another of Netherland's penalty kicks.

Her joy and celebrations about advancing to the final match were cut short when she remembered that now she had to face Germany.

Crap.


End file.
